


Broken Plates, Again (Big Daddy Mags Remix)

by sebastian2017



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, disastrous dinners, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15273336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebastian2017/pseuds/sebastian2017
Summary: Charles is smitten with Erik, absolutely smitten, and ever since meeting his children, he's become quite sure Erik is the man he wants to marry. Even if his first dinner with the twins had been semi-disastrous. There's only one obstacle between him and getting on one knee in front of Erik:David.His dear, routine loving, stranger hating son.





	Broken Plates, Again (Big Daddy Mags Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JackyJango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Big Daddy Mags](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14411562) by [JackyJango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango). 
  * In response to a prompt by [JackyJango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango) in the [xmen_remix_madness2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2018) collection. 



> This was going to be a quick little thing and it developed a life of its own, so here we are I guess. 
> 
> CW: alcohol, food, drug mention, institutionalization mention , more in the end notes (with potential spoilers)

Erik is the one for him. Charles can feel it, and he has a very good feeling about it. Everything is perfect. He loves Erik, finds him simply wonderful and lovely and intelligent. He loves Pietro and Wanda, as well, like children of his own. He doesn’t know why Erik had been so nervous about introducing the children to him. They’re rambunctious, yes, but in a perfectly sweet way, and Charles had been nothing but endeared while meeting them. He loves them, and he hopes that soon, they’ll be his stepchildren, not simply his boyfriend’s children. He’d be honored to be a part of their family. He and Erik have been together a laughably short period of time, just barely six months, but Charles just knows. He’s known for a while now, but even he’s not foolish enough to start thinking of marriage after a month of dating. Six feels like a slightly more acceptable number and while he may not propose to Erik just yet, Charles doesn’t doubt he’s ready to move things forward a bit, perhaps move in together.

Charles already would have made the arrangements for them to have moved in together, if not for one crucial detail… David. Charles has a rather sensitive son. It would be useless to deny it. Life with David has always been difficult to navigate, although Charles would never even dream of changing his son. He loves his boy, difficulties and all. But all the love in the world won’t make it any easier to introduce David to Erik and his children. Before, it had simply been too early to even think of introducing David to his boyfriend. By the time Erik introduced the twins to Charles and Charles even considered reciprocating, it was already summer and David was gone for camp and time with his mother, a combination of things that resulted in Charles only truly getting a handful of days in June, when school lets out, and once more in August, just before David begins again. Charles can’t much complain about the arrangement. He still gets far more time with David.

And besides, now that summer is finally almost over, Charles is increasingly nervous when he thinks about introducing David and Erik to one another. When he drives to the airport to pick David up, it’s practically all he can think of. David will find out eventually, but Charles tries to put it out of his mind regardless. He doesn’t want David reading his mind and for this to be the very first thing he sees as soon as he returns home. He’ll ease into this. He knows travelling long distances and in cramped up jumbo jets with hundreds of other minds can be exhausting for his son. Still, when he spots David waiting for him in the pick up lane, Charles is delighted when David greets him with a big grin and a wave. He’s glad that even in the midst of seventeen year old angst, David still finds some moments of kindness.

Charles pulls the car up next to where David is standing. He barely gets the parked before he rushes out to envelop his son in a hug. “David! Oh, it’s good to see you again. You’ve gotten so big!”

“You say that after every summer, Dad.” David laughs and chucks his bags into the trunk, with some help from his telekinesis. He goes around to the passenger’s side of the car, just as Charles is settling behind the wheel once more.

“And I mean it every year,” Charles promises. He grins as he drives out, not even minding the horrendous traffic to leave the airport. He’s just happy to have his son back. “How was camp? How’s your mother? Our summer phone calls are always so short with the time differences.”

David starts telling Charles all about it, in one of his talkative moods, apparently. Charles is more than happy to listen, even when he suspects he’s getting incredibly abridged versions of some stories, like anything involving David’s night outs in Paris with his French friends. Charles isn’t foolish enough to believe David would volunteer all the details, but he also won’t complain, nor will he pry through his memories for more details. David fluctuates often, and none of his moods can be relied on to stick around for long. Charles knows to take advantage of a good one when it comes.

He’s still talking when Charles pulls up to their apartment building, which isn’t like him, but Charles figures the distance may have done them some good. It’s a difficult age, seventeen. Charles remembers being seventeen, and even though his relationship with his mother was always strained, even too much time around Raven had felt frustrating at that age. Everything about home did, when he felt like he had one foot out the door already. Perhaps that’s how David feels about it all. Charles always assumes the best in his son, when he can. Charles parks the car, and takes advantage of the lull in conversation while David is taking his luggage out.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to speak to you about, David. I don’t know how much of a shock this may or may not be to you, but I’ve been seeing someone as of late. His name is Erik, and it’s been getting quite serious between us, and I’d very much like for you to have a chance to meet him,” Charles says, hoping it sounds more like an offer than an obligation.

David grumbles about it, but looks entirely unsurprised. “Thank God you finally brought it up. I swear, even before the plane landed, I could hear you stressing about it. I was wondering when you’d finally say something.”

“Oh. You’d already heard my thoughts on it?” Charles forgets, sometimes, how powerful his son is, and how wide of a range he has, even while not trying at all.

“I didn’t mean to. You were just being… loud.” David shrugs. “I was wondering when you would bring it up.”

“I didn’t want to ambush you with it,” he says apologetically.

David scoffs softly, pausing halfway up the stairs in the midst of his task of taking his suitcases up to his room. “Dad…” He pauses, and Charles has a feeling he’s trying to think of what to say that won’t be entirely rude, but not entirely a lie, either. “I’m not going to like him any better because you told me now or an hour ago.”

“Give him a chance?” Charles sighs. He didn’t expect David to be particularly happy about it, but he’d let himself hope.

David lingers at the top of the stairs and says nothing for a long moment. Finally, he shrugs. “We can do dinner, I guess. I’m gonna go lie down. Jetlag and all.”

“Of course. I’ll wake you in a bit,” Charles promises. He waits until he hears David’s bedroom door close before pouring himself some scotch and collapsing into the living room couch.

He and Gabrielle had divorced when David was five, and he knows David isn’t resistant to the idea out of some longing that his parents might get back together again someday. Which, at least, is one good thing in this whole situation. Charles knows perfectly well where David’s hesitation stems, which doesn’t make it any easier to work through. Part of it is simply David’s conditions; the precarious balance they’ve achieved through plenty of therapy and medication. David is naturally wary of strangers and anything that may upset the functioning rhythm he’s developed in his homelife.

The other half of it… well, both he and Gabrielle had been in serious relationships after their divorce already, both which had ended in their own versions of catastrophe. Gabrielle’s marriage to Dan had seemed perfect in just about every which way, until one day… well, until the incident in Paris, that David still loathed to talk about and had been a catalyst in a great deal of David’s future struggles. Charles only other serious relationship had been a then-lovely woman by the name of Lillandra, who had found it far too much of a struggle to share Charles with a severely anxious, paranoid twelve year old boy. She’d suggested, near the end of their relationship, that it might be best if David was institutionalized. Charles had been increasingly frustrated in those days, struggling to adjust to the new reality of life, and he’d come frighteningly close to going through with it. As in ‘scheduling an intake appointment at a pediatric psychiatric ward for David’ close.

Mostly, David has forgiven him for it, but the frayed nerves and hurt feelings come to the surface on occasion. Charles can’t blame him for that. Not at all. He just wishes he could go back and stop it ever happening, instead of being here, half a decade later, with David still wary of any new partner in Charles’ life. It’s not ideal, but Charles has long since learned his lesson that sometimes, the best thing to do is find ways to adapt to new problems in life, not try to be rid of it or ignore it’s even happening in the first place. He doesn’t foresee Erik causing any problems over David, but… this time around, Charles is prepared to end it now if the need arises, instead of drawing it out and ending in another disaster.

Charles waits until David’s mind has lulled off to sleep before he picks up his phone to call Erik. “Hi, Erik!” he says, once the other has picked up. “I picked up David today, like I said I was doing.”

“You must be happy,” Erik notes. In the background, Charles thinks he can just barely make out the sound of the twins’ screaming and running about.

“Ecstatic,” he confirms. “I mentioned you to him. Briefly. Still, He agreed to meet you over dinner. Does that sound all right to you?”

“It sounds more than perfect,” Erik agrees.

Charles sips at his scotch and lets himself relax a bit. “I’ll see if I can find us reservations somewhere nice. David is a bit more partial to tuxes and luxury and fine dining than the twins are; we can indulge.”

“It’ll make him feel all grown up, too, I bet. I’ll find a babysitter for the twins,” he promises.

“I would appreciate it,” Charles says. “They’ll meet eventually, obviously, but… for now, I think it’s best to ease him into it. One step at a time.”

Charles hasn’t told Erik all of David’s condition, or how difficult or sensitive the boy can be sometimes, but he’s mentioned tidbits here and there. Enough for Erik to agree easily to that and end the call, so Charles can call some fine dining restaurants in the city in search of a reservation in the coming days. Erik, he figures, will no doubt see that David can be a bit off sometimes after they’ve dined together, and perhaps then Charles will elaborate on his son’s anxiety, the paranoia, the other big words that have been tossed around but hesitant to diagnose before David is fully grown. It’s not truly his story to share, but perhaps David will give his blessing to it. He might even like Erik. He lets himself hope.

 

                                                                                                           ------

  
A week later, David is checking his appearance for just about the millionth time in the full length mirror on his bedroom door. He’s donned one of the many suits he owns, mostly for when his father takes him to academic events or his mother brings him as her plus one to ambassador dinners. His Oxfords are polished to perfection, he’s made sure of that. His hair is styled back, less pomade for some James Dean teenage rebellion style, more wax for a fitting side part. He looks every bit the old money heir he is and will fit right in with everyone else who finds dinner at a Michelin 3-star restaurant to be a good way to spend Saturday night.

Normally, David finds excessive rules and behavioral codes to be stifling, but this is an exception he makes. Social situations are difficult for him. They always have been, but even more so since the incident. He’s never quite sure what to do with himself, or how it might be appropriate to interact with others around him. Bastions of the upper class like this are well structured. There is no question how he’s meant to act, it’s simply given to him. David finds a strange sort of comfort in this.

Comfort he will no doubt need if he’s to meet his father’s boyfriend tonight.

Once he’s pleased that he looks well put together and more confident than he feels, David flicks his bedroom lights off and goes downstairs, to where his father is waiting near the door. “Ready to head out?”

“Of course. Erik will meet us there,” his father says. As David passes by him towards the car, Charles stops him with a gentle hand around his wrist. When David turns to look back at him, Charles smiles and places a hand on David’s shoulder. “You look very dashing. You’ve grown into quite the man, David. I’m very proud of you, you know? I love you.”

“Thanks, Dad… I love you too,” David promises, reaching up to pat his father’s hand on him. It’s raw and vulnerable and the discomfort itches at the edges of his psyche, but David pats those down. He loves his parents and he’s grateful for their love, even with all his difficulties. That’s something he has to remind himself, even though his faulty brain chemistry would prefer he believe that he hates everyone in the world that’s not a friend he smokes weed and drinks cheap beers with. Still, for all he doesn’t hate reminders of his parents’ love, he can’t quite keep up a tender moment as long as his father might and he glances at his watch to put a respectful end to it. “We should probably head out before traffic gets worse. Wouldn’t want to be late.”

“No, no, of course not. Off we go. Aboard my chariot, King David.”

David groans and complains about not being a child and his father’s corniness, but he obliges and gets inside, taking his place in the passenger’s side. It’s not a long ride to the restaurant from their Manhattan townhouse, nor is there more traffic than the usual to get there. But his father is willing to humor him, and Erik is punctual, so they arrive almost together, erasing any awkward wait times between them.

David eyes Erik suspiciously as they approach him waiting outside the restaurant’s entrance. He can see what his father sees in the man, at least. Tall, dark, handsome, and brooding? His father never stood a chance. Charles teps forward ahead of David, to greet Erik first. David notices the way Erik leans in to kiss his father, only to awkwardly pull back when he remembers David is there and watching. David isn’t really rooting for this relationship to work - the last thing he wants in his senior year of high school is for his father to be in some new, committed relationship - but he’s not feeling entirely like a dick right now, so he crouches down and pretends to be very interested in fixing his shoelace for a moment. Long enough for his father to get that kiss in, at least.

When he stands again, his father has a hand at the small of Erik’s back, leading him towards David. “This is my son, David. David, this is Erik,” Charles says, even if it is just a formality at this point.

David shakes his hand, calling back every polite manner his mother and father have worked so hard to instill in him. “Pleasure to meet you, Erik. My father’s told me great things about you.”

“Likewise. Your father’s all but waxed poetic about you,” Erik tells him, chuckling. “Shall we head inside for our table? The reviews here are spectacular.”

David nods and follows the two of them inside, trying to ignore the sour feeling in his gut at seeing the casual, comfortable intimacy between them. His father’s hand at Erik’s back, Erik pulling the chair out for Charles when they reached their table. David tries his best to shield, the way his father does, but he’s pretty sure even the best of shields wouldn’t keep out the love Erik radiates for his father. It’s grossing him out, sort of, in the same way any kid doesn’t want their parents kissing or holding hands or anything yucky like that, no matter how childish. David has no ill will against Erik. It’s nothing against him personally. He just… doesn’t want to complicate things. He doesn’t want to jeopardize their tenuous balance and he definitely doesn’t want to open their lives to disaster.

It’s no way to live, seeing everything as just potential heartbreak and catastrophe, his therapists have told him so countless times, but David can’t help it. He doesn’t want his father to be lonely or unhappy, but… he wishes this could have waited until he’d moved out for college, at least. It seems like the least they could have done.

They’re seated in a quiet corner, up against a wall and in easy view of the exits. David is pretty sure his father called ahead to request such seating, but he doesn’t want to call attention to it now. David makes a mental note to thank him for it later, after Erik’s left again. A childish part of David wants to sabotage this dinner as wildly as he can, so he won’t have to worry about Erik staying around. But he can’t do that to his father. Especially not when Erik is liable to leave regardless, after he spends a bit more time with him. Instead of sabotage, David just remains mostly quiet as his father and Erik read over the menu, making brief comments regarding what they’re in the mood for. They’re both consciously leaving it open for David to jump in whenever he’d like, but he refrains.

Their wine and appetizers come out speedily enough, including a glass of red wine for David, since this establishment is expensive enough to not particularly care about serving wine to a teenager accompanied by his father. They would never get inspected by police, but if they did, no doubt they would say something about food being an art and the wine being an essential part of it. David would just spew something about religious exemptions and havdalah, even if it didn’t quite make sense. The hypothetical cops would never know. Erik is fixing to speak to him, David can tell, so he takes a rather large, undignified bite of his appetizer to give him some time to chew and swallow and wash it down with wine and, ultimately, stave off answering for another moment or so. Even a moment would be useful.

Erik goes forth, unfazed. “So, David. Your father tells me you’ll be a senior in high school this year? That’s an exciting age. Have you thought what you might study? Or where you might go?”

David is part annoyed, part relieved. It’s an easy question, which is a relief, but it’s only easy because it’s the only thing adults ever ask him since about halfway through Junior Year. He shrugs. “I don’t really know where I want to go yet, but I think I want to dance. So…” David trails off, and shrugs once more.

“Dance, huh? My little girl dances. She’s only five, though. Last parent-daughter recital, I went on stage with her in a cape,” Erik tells him, grinning.

Against his better judgement, David laughs. He wants to be apathetic at best towards Erik, but it’s a funny mental image, especially when David sees hints of it in Erik’s mind. It’s hard to keep his icy approach when he’s so amused. I doesn’t help to ese how pleased his father is about David being polite and getting along well enough with Erik. David warms up a bit from there on out, as their main courses get brought out. Only a bit, though. He still doesn’t want Erik sticking around in the long run, or even for much longer than a few more weeks. The longer dinner goes on the guiltier David feels about it, because his father is clearly smitten, but… David just can’t bring himself to be pleased by this. He can’t.

At the very least, though, dinner doesn’t have to be terrible. They make idle small talk over their meals, during which David hears a bit more about Erik’s twin children. They sound sort of cute, which makes it a shame that David never plans on meeting them. David opens up a bit, as well, with some stories of summer camp in Israel. He’s more amenable to the opening up when he learns that Erik has been to Israel several times, and even lived there for a few years as a teenager. Conversation comes easily enough that David is almost regretful about wanting Erik out of their lives so badly.

Just as their thoughts begin straying towards dessert, his father’s phone begins to ring. Charles apologizes as he checks it, only to look even more sheepish. “I’m so sorry. It’s an emergency at the lab, or I’d just ignore it. I’ll be outside taking it. Shouldn’t take more than about five minutes. .So sorry.”

David watches his father dash off and leave them alone, and feels a vaguely murderous annoyance towards whatever incompetent grad student with no life was calling at this hour on a Saturday night. Probably Hank McCoy. David hates Hank McCoy, because the stupid kid is the same age as him, but already a grad student in Columbia. Anytime his father speaks about Hank McCoy, it’s always with a paternal sort of pride, that sparks anger and jealousy and annoyance deep inside David. That newfound spark of jealousy reminds him why he doesn’t want Erik in their lives, either. Which is unfortunate for Erik, because he’d actually been doing a better than expected job at getting David to like him.

David must be projecting, slightly, because Erik gives it his best shot to diffuse the tension slightly. He chuckles, “You know, dinner was sort of disastrous when Charles met my children. I’m glad this one is going better.”

David barely gets a chance to warn him not to jinx it before, there it is, jinxed. One of the passing waiters trips up on something, and sets a set of plates tumbling to the floor with a loud crash. It shouldn’t be anything more than a bit embarrassing and tensely humorous, but the noise sets off a blinding note of panic inside David, of the sort he can’t foresee nor control. His vision blurs and he can hear nothing except the pounding of his pulse in his ears, but he keeps moving without any awareness whatsoever. By the time he comes to, it likely hasn’t been more than thirty seconds, a minute at most. But it’s plenty of time to have made a mess in his harried scramble.

The table is overturned, no doubt by a burst of telekinesis, and David is tucked away between it and the wall. That hadn’t felt safe enough, clearly, because his powers had still reached out around him to create a shield of sorts around himself, blue and shimmering and just barely translucent enough to make out the shadows of chaos on the outside. He can’t hear anything from outside his cocoon, though if that’s because of the panic attack or because the shield is insulated, he’s unsure. Erik is inside with him, which is… not ideal.

But David’s not quite focused on Erik right now. He’s too busy quelling down bad memories and fear and trying to remind himself that even though his body feels like it’s shutting down and dying, he’s not really going to die. No matter how tight his chest feels or how his hands tremble or the wave of nausea that nearly overcomes him. He’s felt this before and he’s always wound up fine, after a few minutes. David tells himself this, over and over again, but it doesn’t make breathing any easier. It doesn’t help that he’s overcome with embarrassment now, from the way Erik is staring, aghast and entirely unsure what to do. David wants to die. (Whether that’s hyperbolic or not, he hasn’t decided yet.)

Tears burn at his eyes and despite the shaking, David lifts his palms up to push back against his eyelids, willing the tears away. He’s seventeen. Almost all grown up. Too old to be crying and shaking and making messes in public like this.

Erik slides off his chair veeery slowly and approaches David in much the same way one might approach a wild, wounded animal. “Hey… Hey, David? You okay?”

David likes Erik, despite wanting not to. He has a comforting mind, despite a sometimes sour outer disposition and he treats David like an adult and takes his opinions seriously and is way more radical than his father when it comes to mutant politics, which David appreciates. It’s undoubtedly all those frustrating things that make David like Erik against his will which leads him to blurt out, “I have PTSD. And anxiety. And um, I mean, like, lotsa stuff.”

(Other than the liking Erik well enough, it’s also undoubtedly the oversharing that is a common symptom in his attacks like this. But David can never think in rational, clinical terms in moments like this.)

“Okay… Well, you don’t need to explain yourself if you don’t want,” Erik says, clearly unsure what to do with any of this. “Just… If we get out of your bubble, we’ll get your dad and clear this all up, yeah?”

“It’s just… My stepfather was murdered when I was eleven and I really want to hate you and it happened in front of me and I saw it and - and it was super fucked up and like I don’t really don’t want you dating my dad and like I was super fucked after it happened and I’ve been super fucked ever since and like that’s why I don’t want you around man and like life is super shitty at my dad’s when I’m around and there’s like a million appointments and medication alarms and like I’ve been barely semi-functional for six years and I really need my dad and our routine to function and like our routine and I can’t have anyone around ruining that but you’re like kinda chill but that doesn’t change that loud noises startle me and then shit like this happens and then I just-” David hasn’t paused to breathe even once and he knows he doesn’t make sense. He knows he’s rambling and interlacing one topic with the other and, overall, being rather incomprehensible.

Erik shushes him by guiding a water bottle - that had survived the fall from the overturned table - into David’s hands. “You need to breathe, David. Have a sip of water and here - is it okay if I take your hand? Yeah? Okay, here, just follow me along.”

David stares at Erik like he might attack, but he doesn’t object to having his hand taken and moved to rest on Erik’s chest, where Erik takes theatrical breaths for David to mimic until he has, more or less, stopped hyperventilating. With a steady flow of oxygen helping him to think a bit more clearly, David is even more embarrassed than before. He shouldn’t have said any of that, he knows. Still, he mumbles, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Erik promises. He takes his jacket off, leaving it on his chair, and then settles on the floor, sitting against the wall by David’s side. Erik is genuinely worried, David can tell, though in a paternal sort of way, not the annoyed frustration he’d expected. “First of all, you should really talk to your father about those worries. He loves you dearly. I’ve only known him half a year, but I could see from day one that you’re the most important thing in his life. There’s nothing in the world - boyfriend or not - that would change the fact that you’re number one for him. Second, I’m a father too. I would never dream of getting in between you too. You have nothing to worry about. He’s still your Dad.”

“I know,” David confirms, sighing. He does know. He’s never doubted it. That only makes him more guilty to have such little trust that they could continue functioning together. “It’s not really… a rational fear. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded that on you. I-I’m thinking better now. I can make you forget it. If you want. That’s a lot of baggage for a guy you’ve been dating half a year.”

“Don’t worry about it. I love your father. The unabridged version of his life. I’m sorry about your stepfather, David. That’s quite shit. May his memory be a blessing to you,” he says, reaching over to pat David’s knee.

David’s head darts to face Erik almost fast enough to give him whiplash. Somehow, this hasn’t come up even in their chats about living in Israel. “You’re Jewish?”

“Indeed. Your father told me you are, too, but I figured religion’s not quite a first meeting sort of topic.” Erik shrugs.

“Guess not…” he agrees. “But that’s cool. That, um, that helped me a lot after. Our rabbi and Kaddish and all that.”

“I’m glad it did. Our communities should be our biggest strengths,” Erik says.

David nods. He’s quiet for a moment, having another sip of water. Finally, he sighs. “Are you gonna run screaming and never answer my dad’s calls again after this? I would.”

“Lucky for all of us, I’m not you,” he chuckles softly. “Of course I’m not leaving your father. Why would I?”

“Uh…” David looks at the mess around them, broken plates and spilled wine and blue orb still surrounding them. “Because his son is a high maintenance wreck?”

“I’m serious about your father, David. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. And I mean that. Not just in the simple parts.” Erik glances at broken china and shrugs. “Besides, my kids broke plates when I introduced them to Charles. It’s basically tradition, at this point.”

David laughs softly, feeling better, even if his hand is still shaking a bit and his stomach remains a bit queasy. “Guess so… I don’t really want my dad dating anyone, but if he has to… You’re not so bad, Erik.”

“A compliment of the highest honors, I’m sure. Now, I have a feeling we’re not exactly welcome to stay for dessert. How about we get out of this shield of yours and fetch your father so we can sort this out?” Erik suggests.

David nods and stands, concentrating immensely on his powers for a moment until the orb around them dissipates. His father is right there waiting and immediately wraps David up in one of his worried hugs as he checks his pulse and asks if he’s okay no less than a million times in no less than thirty seconds. David assures him he’s fine just as many times and then goes to find a corner near the entrance to wait in while his father pays for the damages. He sees Erik and his father exchange whispers back and forth, no doubt speaking about him, but David somehow resists the temptation to listen in on them.

When everything is sorted out and they come towards him again, David suggests, “There’s a Jewish deli that stays open late a few blocks down. Wanna grab some black and white cookies for dessert? I’m… I’m feeling up to it and the walk would be nice, to clear my head some more. Besides, Erik and I weren’t really done talking yet.”

His father looks absolutely shocked, of course, while Erik just looks a bit pleased with himself. They go, of course, and sit in a creaky table in the corner of the deli. Dingy, hole in the wall establishments are always much funner to eat in while dressed to the nines, David decides. He and Erik continue making easy small talk and David goes a step forward for all of them by planning out a date to meet Erik’s twins as well. He still needs to talk to his father, and most definitely to his regular therapist now that he’s back in town, but for the moment…

Well, maybe Erik isn’t the life ending catastrophe David had labeled it to be. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll actually be kind of cool. 

**Author's Note:**

> spoilery CW: Charles has a.... not great way of speaking about his son's mental illness, which could definitely be taken as patronizing/demonizing. David has a panic attack near the end which is described in blurry detail (if that makes sense). There is a brief mention to David's stepfather being murdered in a terrorist attack. 
> 
> please let me know if anything was missed! <3 
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> for questions, prompts, or chatting I can be found on tumblr at [sebbym17](http://sebbym17.tumblr.com/)


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